Having been nearby when the call rang out, Marsh felt himself in a fortunate position to attend to whoever required company. The owner was easily identified as foreign, both to the pack and the wolf himself, but because she had called, Marsh was not predisposed to think the worst. Her message had carried her desire for permission, after all, and any wolf with the sense to be polite and respectful on another pack's territory was all right in Marsh's book.

With no immediate task to delay him, it took no longer than a minute for him to arrive at the borders, faintly recalling being in a similar situation himself just a few weeks ago. However, any thoughts that she was here to join was quickly cast doubt on, for the white wolf had the smell of pack on her that was only diminished because of the time it must have taken to journey here. Curiosity kindled, Marsh approached the sitting female directly, making no lie of his intentions. As his tail curled over his back, he circled her slightly in order to best inhale her scent before returning to her front, bringing their faces fairly close as he studied her. Huffing, he nodded his head sharply and then lifted it, demanding her reason for being so close to Swift River lands.

Her respect and understanding of the situation was pleasing, though Marsh was still bemused as to what could have tempted her out here. Her apology was unnecessary and he duly ignored it; it was his duty to respond to her, and anything else would have been the interruption. Her soft friendliness was vaguely off-putting, as if she were too gentle to be the kind of wolf Marsh felt truly comfortable around. He hazarded a guess that she was the talking kind. As it turned out, he wasn't too wrong, though she seemed somewhat uncomfortable with the situation.

A pack to the west? He hadn't come across any new territories in his recent journeying, though to be fair he had made a point of coming directly to Indru upon returning to Relic Lore. Perhaps new land had been claimed. Curious, he examined her scent again, but found little familiar... aside from the faint lingering of a young female that he did recognise. That small, black yearling he had hunted with, by chance? Glad for the inadvertent good news, his mood improved just slightly, extending a little more silent friendliness than he had before.

Though aware that he was probably expected to 'introduce himself', Marsh couldn't help but focus on the latter part of her speech, that which apparently detailed her reason for coming all this distance. Herb-lore and medicines? Marsh couldn't claim any knowledge on the matter; the closest he had come to munching on plants for any particular outcome was when he needed to clear his stomach, and that was just grass. Surely that could not be what she meant?

The bemusement on his face surely answered her question as to his expertise in the matter, but he swiftly composed himself. Whilst he could not recall any wolf with such knowledge from his birth pack, he was sure that their immediate rivals would have been a fountain of wisdom on the matter. As such, he supposed he should not assume that the other members of his pack were as equally ignorant as he. Though a few questions had lodged in place over her motivations, he would give this Vlarindara the benefit of the doubt. Shaking his head to show that he personally knew no such thing, Marsh took a few steps back and re-orientated himself so that his message would be better heard by those in Swift River. Angling his muzzle upwards, his ears fell back and he sang his brief, deep howl. Does anybody know anything about plants? he asked, the message included alongside the more general request for company and announcement of a visitor, and he idly wondered what this white stranger would do if no such expert was located.

Now came the waiting game. Content as Marsh was to stand guard and watch over the newcomer until a more knowledgeable wolf arrived (they wouldn't leave him in the lurch, would they?), he was still curious about why she had asked, and, perhaps to a greater extent, about this pack to which she belonged.

To Marsh's surprised satisfaction, she abandoned words, though he realised with an irritated pang that this wouldn't much solve the first problem. Nor, as she had sat and made herself comfortable (her deliberate actions almost making her appear feline, though that was a foolhardy concept and he brushed it off) was there any easy way of investigating this pack she belonged to; though the more base facts were evident in the scent that hung on her pelt, her time apart from the lands had dampened their potency. Perhaps...

Considering how relatively brief his departure from Relic Lore had been, it wasn't outlandish to think that it had sprung up sometime since then. Perhaps it had even been after his admittance into Swift River. That could explain why he could not read her so well.

Choosing not to mimic her relaxed posture, Marsh remained on his feet, determined to learn all he could. Perhaps he could tell something of it to Indru, if his leader was not already aware of this potential rival. Permitting himself authority, thanks to their location, he did not afford her the luxury of much personal space; treading lightly around her, tail high but posture non-hostile, he lowered his nose to her as part of his general inspections. Having completed his circle, bearing information anew, his eyes returned to her face and the first curiosity was revived. Inclining his head slightly, he perked his ears and watched her attentively. Just why did she need these plants, anyway? If she did not understand, then he may be forced to revert to less fluid forms of communication, but such was the way with those with strange motives and actions.

Yearling brother? That was out of sorts, for Marsh could find little to no traces of blood relatives on her, but then, perhaps they had been separated for a long time? A few months may have been long enough, but then, her story didn't seem to imply his death. Oh, it was so hard to tell - the words just ended up rolling into themselves and becoming one long noise - and who cared, anyway? Her brother meant nothing to him. The fact that she was seeking plants-with-benefits was interesting in a freaky kinda way, because if a wolf was weak enough to fall ill in the first place then... well, that was natural selection. You didn't get far in life coddling creatures who weren't destined to survive.

The second set of information she offered was of considerably greater interest, in a matter-of-fact way. So, the pack wasn't a rival, huh? From the scent she brought with her, Marsh judged that the size of her group was roughly equivalent to Swift River's, and - wait, now that he thought about it... did he recognise another scent?

Ha! It was that bizarre angry wolf that did little but infuriate and amuse Marsh in equal measure. Talk about good timing - hadn't he just been talking about natural selection? If ever there was a candidate for a Darwin Award, it was that creature. So, he hadn't been wrong in sensing a pack on the boy's pelt after all, though the notion seemed laughable. That was the type of wolf her leaders accepted? Well then, it was certainly no threat at all. Everything processed in a matter of moments, Marsh's only initial response to her reassurance was to lightly snort, thoroughly believing her words. There was room, yes, and he had no doubts about Indru's capabilities.

There was no point in talking about Swift River; she was right here, she could just inhale and see for herself. As such, his thoughts returned to the first topic - the topic he was still waiting on backup for - and he returned to the front of Vlarindara and sat in front of her, watching her neutral, calm face intently. He rolled his muzzle in a small circle, trying to signify a turning-back of time and topics. Damn it all to a verbose hell, he was going to have to exercise his poor tongue, wasn't he?

"Whhhuh," he began softly, desperately maintaining his patience, privately afraid of the same kind of ridicule and reaction that he had received last time, "whhhhy bbb- ccc-uh, caaare?" A weak link was a weak link, after all, and what was a pack if not a chain?

Her answer gave Marsh pause. It wasn't in his nature to care for those who were too weak, for, in his experience, they became more of a burden than they were worth because of it. Then again, an order was an order, and it was not impossible to believe that there were selfless or overly compassionate creatures amongst his kind. He had often seen it in parents with ill children, although even there he had taken a while to understand; it may have been many years ago now, but he could still remember his own siblings being left behind as stragglers or mercifully put to rest when they proved too slow or too damaged. Perhaps it was just in his family's nose to know when a cause was a lost one. It wasn't hard to tell if something was wrong with a newborn, and he had seen mothers kill such creatures without a second thought.

Though, if he considered it, he had not witnessed such cold action for a few years. Either wolfkind was changing around him, or he had fallen deeper and deeper into sympathetic and talkative company.

This contemplation most likely showed on his face, and he felt no reason to hide it. So, it was going to be a never ending cycle, was it? But then, she was healthy enough right now, so was it worth putting the effort in early on? Corinna was pregnant, that he knew, and he very much doubted that she had the mettle to break the neck of a pup with poor prospects. Would it be beneficial for him to embark on the same journey of knowledge that this Vlarindara was?

Huffing to acknowledge his comprehension and acceptance, Marsh settled for a new tact, having pulled from his thoughtful reverie and returning his focus to the present. Casting a glance behind his shoulder, he was forced to accept that there appeared to be no wolves in Swift River with the necessary knowledge, and offered Vlarindara a silent apology with a wolfish shrug. Still, his curiosity remained, but he likely had little to learn from a wolf who was also seeking a teacher.